


Slave Crown

by NeonGreenSoul



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Aftercare, Esper Terra, F/F, Femdom, Femslash, Fight Sex, Master/Slave, Power Exchange, Trauma Recovery, slave crown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonGreenSoul/pseuds/NeonGreenSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terra was a slave to a monster, and in his service did monstrous things. But now she wants to create new memories, better memories with a more worthy master, and find some peace at last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coronation

Celes idly traced Terra's scars with her fingernails. She saw a map of beautiful battlefronts sprawled across her lover's bare skin: a harrying series of fingertip raids on her left breast, a surprise sortie of scratches along her ribs, two hands poised on the border of her left leg, preparing full-scale occupation of her inner thigh. But she was losing the war.

The tension of the past hour was anything but sexual. Terra's mind certainly hadn't been on what Celes was doing with her hips. Nor was it in that wild place where her esper half lurked and waited for Celes to coax it out with hands, and feet, and tongues, and teeth. When Terra said she'd finish herself but never bothered to do so, Celes knew it was words her love was looking for, not affection.

"I have a question," Terra said, breaking the post-fuck silence.

Celes's hands paused only for a second. "Oh?"

She hoped she sounded relaxed. Whatever was on Terra's mind worried her because it worried Terra. If she was afraid of saying it to Celes, that meant it was about her, or it involved her. What could be so dire that Terra had to gather her courage just to speak?

"You remember me. You know, from before. Right?"

Terra hadn't asked about that in months, not since their early cuddling in the _Falcon's_ lounge, where they had each found comfort in another who could help make sense of their lives in the Empire. She had already told Terra all she knew.

"You know the answer to that."

Terra nodded, staring past Celes to the porthole.

"Love, what is—"

"I still have it," Terra declared. Her eyes locked on Celes's, bright with decisive fire.

"Have what?"

And just like that, the fire was gone. Her gaze fell to Celes's navel, then drifted to the porthole again.

"Arvis was going to toss it in the fireplace, but Locke insisted. He said if I didn't destroy it myself it would haunt me, not knowing whether it still existed. Then . . ." _The Light of Judgment_. "Locke was right. Every night of my year in Mobliz, I had nightmares. Kefka would break down my door and force it onto my head, right there in front of my kids. He'd make me . . ." Terra's spirit retreated to the far corner of her mind.

"You're talking about the slave crown, aren't you?"

Terra nodded, but didn't speak.

"Is that why you wanted to go to Narshe so badly?"

Again, Terra nodded.

"I see. You know, we all thought it was about that esper." Celes rolled over to get a better look at Terra. It _had_ been a very heated argument; it was the one time in recent memory that Terra raised her voice in true anger to Edgar and Setzer both. "But this makes sense."

"The worst ones, he wouldn't even have to force me to put it on. In those, I was already so broken I put it on myself."

Celes nodded. She wanted desperately to touch Terra and remind her that she was not a dream, but she wasn't sure whether she should. She had a thousand questions that she knew better than to ask. Terra was leading Celes down that trail of scars that couldn't be found on her skin.

"I was going to destroy it. I stood there looking at the fire, ready to watch it melt to scrap and toss it off the cliff. But I just . . . didn't. I tried again a few months later." Terra paused to link her fingers with Celes's. "Eventually, I realized I didn't want to destroy it. I realized that even with it gone, even safe from ever being . . ." _his slave_ , "I would still have these memories. I would remember my body being not my own, being used to kill for sport, with only my own horror to comfort me. I would remember when the horror stopped because how I felt didn't matter. I remember how long it took to appreciate the magnitude of what I had lost in that time."

Celes forced her brow to relax and gave Terra's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I know I'm safe. With you." Terra met Celes's gaze and smiled. Celes wasn't sure Terra had ever given her such a compliment before.

"Love, I think it's good that you think it was horrific. What was done to you was evil, full stop."

Terra shook her head. "No. I mean, yes, it was. But I _know_ that; I don't _feel_ that."

Quiet settled in as Terra fumbled around for words again. If someone asked Celes why she loved Terra, she would tell them about her fierceness, her independence, the light of justice and joy that burned within her. If she was drinking, she might even admit to loving the way Terra's esper sometimes took over during orgasm.

What she would never spoil by speaking of were these private moments, when the two hardest women in the world were allowed to be soft in each others' hands. Terra was a quiet person at the best of times, but Celes cherished being the only person to see her silent.

"Would you help me?"

Celes kissed Terra's forehead "I'd do anything for you. Would you like me to be there to make sure you destroy it?"

Terra shook her head. "I want to create new memories. Better ones."

"What is it you need, love?"

"Will you let me be your slave?"

Celes recoiled. The very notion of depriving someone of their will sent her thoughts spiraling. A thousand reasons to tell Terra no flooded her mind, but she couldn't choose one to say, so the silence hung naked between them.

Terra let go of Celes's hand and started sitting up to get dressed. "I'm sorry, I—"

"I will." Celes grabbed Terra's hand. "I'll do it."

"No," Terra said. "You're not interested. I can see that."

Celes gently guided Terra to looking her in the eyes. "I can't say I'm totally comfortable with it. I'm used to earning obedience not forcing it, and you know what I thought of those generals who did try to force it. But sweetheart, if this is what you need I will do everything in my power to help. Even if it is, well, a little outside what I'm used to."

Terra offered a cautious smile, and when Celes returned it, her eyes were radiant with the visceral _need_ that was missing earlier. She ran her fingers down Celes's cheek, digging her nails in before lifting off her chin. Celes shivered. "Wait there."

Terra stood, and Celes perched on her stomach to watch her. Even in her human form, that magical fire guided Terra's fluid, feral movements. Both were wiry from their lives as soldiers, and Celes still moved like a soldier: crisp, direct, committed. But Terra . . .

Terra meandered. Terra flowed. Terra swayed. She didn't _move toward_ so much as _arrive at_ , and Celes would never be quite sure how she got there, but she would bask in the beauty of it every time. Unclothed, Celes marveled at the way even Terra's smallest movements involved her entire body.

She turned, and in her hands was a plain, sandy-gold circlet. It looked no different than the casual coronet of a queen and no more dangerous than a bracelet. Yet Terra held it with only the tips of her fingers like it was some living thing, an asp ready to lash out if she agitated it. That anxiety corrupted every movement she made, turning her into a jerking, stumbling fawn.

Celes took the offered crown. It was cold. Her artificial esper half snarled hungrily within her mind, yearning to consume the vile magic of it. For a moment she feared that if she did, some oily stain would coat her every nerve for the rest of her life.

For Terra's part, the tension dropped away once she was freed of the crown, and her hips swayed eagerly just inches from Celes's face. Celes let out a low, "Nnnnnnn," and nuzzled the soft, green hair in front of her. Her scent made Celes's breath catch from yearning. Terra hooked a sharp nail under Celes's chin and lifted Celes to kneeling. "Up here, hun."

"So insistent. Are you sure you don't want to put this on me?" Celes winked. Terra glanced away, but forced a smile. "I'm sorry, no jokes."

"No jokes."

Celes looked at the crown. "So I just put it on you?" Terra nodded. Celes hesitated. "What, um. . . should I do with you when I have? I've never done this before."

"Whatever you want," Terra said with resolve, but underneath it was excitement.

Celes ran her fingers along Terra's hips. "But I already do whatever I want with you. It's usually you pushing _my_ limits." She held up the crown. "Like this."

"I can't decide for you. That defeats the purpose."

Celes nodded, though she was no closer to an idea for what to make Terra do.

"So, what? Humiliate you? Hurt you?"

Terra poked Celes in the chest. "Aren't _you_ the one who likes being humiliated, Recruit?" She wrapped her arms around Celes's neck. When Celes felt the fingers sliding up into her hair on the back of her head, she squirmed. Terra took a fistful and Celes inhaled. "But I suppose you could if you wanted. And you could hurt me. You know my limits."

The cold metal and runic hunger kept Celes from getting lost in Terra's touch. "But what then? How do I know when to take it off?"

"That's up to you."

Her stomach twisted. "But, what if I never took it off?"

"Then I would be yours forever."

Celes pulled Terra's hands out of her hair and backed off. "You said no jokes."

"I wasn't joking." Terra looked Celes in the eyes and she saw how terrifyingly serious she was. "I trust you. And I am entrusting to you everything that I am."

"So you trust me not to leave it on forever."

"No." Her answer came so quickly Celes couldn't be sure whether Terra had rehearsed this conversation in her mind, or whether she was genuinely that certain.

"Are you saying you'd be alright with that?"

"Yes."

Celes fell back to sitting on her heels, clutching the crown with both hands. "That's . . . no. That's wrong. Everything about it is wrong. The Terra I know wouldn't be alright with being a puppet again."

Tears welled up in Terra's eyes while Celes spoke, but she first noticed when Terra cut her off. "Stop. You have never had your will taken from you before, not like I have. They had to convince you, or coerce you. But you were still _you_. In the end you still chose to follow orders." Terra's voice was raised but she wasn't shouting. She was pleading for understanding. "You're right. What happened to me was wrong."

"Then what's the difference?" Celes asked, now on the edge of anger herself. Terra had blundered and flailed into Celes's own nettle-woven memories.

"Because I am choosing this." A sterling glimmer of defiance glowed in her eyes. "I'm choosing to give you control because . . . because even if you don't give it back I trust what you will do with it. With me."

Celes sighed. "I don't know if that's any different, Terra."

"Then you don't understand why I kept the crown."

Celes set the crown down and took Terra's hands in hers. "You're right. I don't."

Terra looked at their joined hands. "I felt horrified by what I had to do, and I was terrified of the next time I would be forced to do it. But. . . " Terra squeezed Celes's hands, on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry. I'm a horrible person, aren't I?"

"No, you're not. Shh." Celes rushed to pull Terra tight to her chest in a hug. She just held her until she could speak again.

"But. . . I also felt safe. I had no doubts. Insecurities meant nothing. When I let go, when I let myself be a tool, I wasn't worried about being used. I _wanted_ to be used." Terra wiped a tear. "I hate . . . _him_. He is evil to the core and he used me for evil ends. But I also needed him. There was a time when his laugh was all I ever wanted. To please him. To be seen as a _good_ tool." Terra crumpled to her knees and rested her head in Celes's lap. Celes stroked Terra's hair, and scratched her behind the ear. "I know better now. That _creature_ can't feel true pleasure, and his amusement is fleeting at best."

Terra turned and folded her arms across Celes's legs and looked up at Celes. "But I want that safety and clarity again. I want to please someone who deserves it. Someone whose amusement is precious to me. I want to be the favorite tool of someone whose goals are righteous." Terra sniffed the last tear away and climbed up to straddle Celes. "I want . . ." She slow walked her fingers up from Celes's navel, past her chest. ". . . to serve . . ." She dragged her sharp nails from Celes's chest to her chin, then poked her nose. "You."

Celes twirled Terra's green hair. Goddesses, she was impossible to say no to. "I'll try."

The gleeful giggle Terra let out was both reward and encouragement for Celes. She picked up the crown, which once again stirred her artificial esper half's hunger. She held it over Terra's head. Terra closed her eyes, waiting like a queen at her coronation.

"Are you sure?"

Terra nodded.

Celes lowered the crown onto Terra's brow, then lifted her trembling hands. Celes sighed with relief to be rid of it.

"Stand, I suppose."

Terra stood without hesitation. Her eyes didn't quite meet Celes's. She recognized the look. But they weren't the eyes she remembered from knowing Terra in Vector, eyes filled with the unsettling, glassy resolve of a broken woman. Instead she was staring ahead, a trained soldier at attention.

"Um. . . " The general leaned back on the bed, for the first time in her life at a loss for what order to give. She was no stranger to ordering makework tasks to keep the boredom of a long campaign from grinding her soldiers' resolve to dust, but there were a thousand chores around the camp to choose from. On an airship with hired staff? Even as a general Celes was unaccustomed to how much was done for her.

All Celes really wanted to do was to stare. Terra was always in motion—especially when her clothes were off—so as often as she saw her love's naked form, she rarely got more than quick glances. It wasn't that Terra wouldn't let her carefully examine every inch of her; she would. But Celes was afraid she'd find that dreadfully boring compared to their usual activities.

The control that she had started to settle in. Terra was hers. She _could_ take her time.

Celes gestured for Terra to step back and she did. Terra's muscles were firm; hers was a body meant to be in motion. Even when Terra stood still, her sharp, bony frame held the tension of movement like a dissonant chord in anticipation of resolution. Her narrow hips cupped a hard abdomen, a rippling colonnade that guided Celes's eyes further down. And no matter how much she drank with Edgar and Setzer, there was one question Celes would never answer for the boys: all of Terra's hair was that perfect green of the morning ocean.

She repeated the gesture, and Terra obediently retreated another step. She took her time letting this memory form, ensuring every detail was labeled and cataloged: the precise angle at which Terra's leg met her hips, the shallowness of the curve of her waist, the delicate length of her fingers and toes.

"Stay still." Celes imagined running fingers along each of Terra's most sensitive places. Instead, she ran her fingers along her own. She idly stroked her waist, making herself shiver near the edge of ticklishness. Celes's eyes found the sharp peaks of Terra's pelvis as her fingernails scratched lines inside her own. Her gaze lingered on the green tuft of hair between Terra's legs, but her hand clutched her own blonde curls.

Terra took a deep breath, and Celes grinned deviously. "You are truly beautiful." Terra didn't stir, but her cheeks flushed. "Does it please you to know that the sight of you excites me?"

"Yes, mistress."

Celes thought she would find those words exciting. Certainly the first word was; she liked when Terra was enjoying herself. But the second word unnerved her utterly. Her fingers curled away from her skin like the legs of a dying spider, and her eyes fell upon her knees. Celes waited for the always-perceptive Terra to ask her what was wrong but the woman didn't stir. Was she unable to speak because she hadn't been commanded to? Or could she speak but simply saw no reason to because the crown had robbed her of feeling?

"Just call me . . ." _Celes_. No. Despite her discomfort with having her lover address her as something other than an equal, she didn't want to risk obscuring the power relationship the crown created. She had seen what happened to officers who forgot that authority was still theirs by privilege of rank, and she could see herself losing sight of that in the fog of the comfortably familiar. "Call me Commander."

"Yes, Commander."

"Come here." Celes wrapped her arms around Terra's waist and pressed her cheek to her lover's stomach. The warmth of her touch was undone by the chill of Terra's passivity. "This won't work. Um. . . Until I say otherwise you are to be as affectionate as you would normally."

"Yes, Commander." No sooner had Terra finished speaking than Celes felt her slender fingers weaving their way through her wavy platinum hair. She let out an involuntary hum of approval, and bit the flesh of Terra's stomach.

Celes pushed away. "No. Nevermind. Stop."

Terra stepped back. No expression played upon her face, but her eyes betrayed disappointment, and hurt.

"Say it. Say whatever it is you're thinking."

"Did I displease you, Commander?"

Celes reached up and pulled the crown off, tossing it on the bed behind her.

"What's wrong?" Terra asked, and knelt beside Celes.

"I should ask you the same thing."

Terra brushed a hand against Celes's neck. "I told you. I want this."

"It feels wrong," Celes said. "I want your affection because you choose to give it, because I've earned it. I don't want it if I have to command it."

Terra took Celes's face in both her hands. "Celes Chere, I let you put that crown on my head because there is _nothing_ I would not choose to give you if I knew you wanted it. You earned that. But more importantly, I am asking you to relieve me of the burden of having to choose."

"Then a limit, for now." Celes whispered. "For my sake."

"Of course."

"I don't want you wearing the crown during sex." No one else would have noticed, but Terra couldn't hide her disappointment. Not from Celes. "At least, not yet." Terra smiled lightly at that. Celes took hold of Terra's wrists, her hands still hot on Celes's cheeks. She nuzzled against them. "But I have an idea for tomorrow." A mischievous grin curled Celes's lips. Terra trembled with curious excitement.


	2. Tasting Her Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celes wants to taste Terra's magic. But when she oversteps Terra's boundaries, Terra breaks the slave crown's hold and flies into a panicked frenzy. 
> 
> (Esper!Terra, scene interruption, aftercare, sensual combat)

"More."

Celes deflected the howling blast of Terra's fire with a casual twirl of _Save the Queen_. The sword's runes glowed the same lightning green of Terra's hair, and magical energy coursed through the layer of flesh just beneath her skin. Her infused esper's hunger was her own hunger, and it greedily consumed the rippling waves of the now harmless spell.

Frost crystals formed at the corner of her eyes as her body harmlessly threw off the scraps of magic left behind. They spread in spirals across the backs of her arms and down her thighs. She felt the frost's chill as it swept up her bare stomach to her chest. Terra's magic was as uniquely familiar as her touch, and it was not hard to feel those icy fingers as Terra's own. The melt glistened on her bare skin like sweat, but she was not the one exerting herself.

"Pathetic! I said more!"

Terra stood on the bed, naked, hunched over, and taking gasping, gulping breaths. Celes was pushing Terra to her limit mostly for the amusement of milking her lover's frustration at being unable to land a spell, but also because she was honestly curious if her own runic hunger could ever be satisfied. And with the slave crown perched upon her brow, Terra was eager to oblige.

Another spell, another growl of satisfaction from deep within her, and another snarl of frustration from Terra.

In all the weeks of growing accustomed to their new arrangement, Celes never let on that she found this game as frustrating as Terra did. She never let her slave see that the Commander had frailties, or weaknesses. While Terra wore the crown, Celes would never let on that she had needs that could not be fulfilled by sufficient diligence and obedience from her slave. Her insatiable hunger for magic was one such need, but burdening her slave with the truth would only make her feel it was her failing.

She'd spend the next week wondering why she said it, and the next lifetime wishing she hadn't. Perhaps it was because she was dwelling on the hunger, her thoughts swallowed by what had been done to her at the Magitek facility. After all, even as a general she never had access to the truth, only fractured memories and a lifetime of lies. She never learned the name—or names, though her heart sank at the thought—of the esper that had become an inseparable part of her. She wasn't even sure whether her runic hunger was a characteristic of the esper, or just a handy side effect of it being corrupted in the joining. But she was sure that was what she was thinking about when she said it.

"Worthless! I ought to turn you into magicite and cast the spell myself!"

 _Too far_.

She knew it before the last word was out of her mouth. Celes dropped her sword and rushed to embrace Terra, an army of apologies marching across her tongue. But before she had taken her second step, and despite the presence of the slave crown, Terra's skin flared to life in glowing lavender. Her hair exploded into a pink mane and her fingers and toes became talons.

Terra reached Celes first and knocked her away with a full-bodied backhand to the chest. She howled with pained fury as she stood over Celes, and raised her gleaming talons to strike her down. Even with the hazy glow of her esper form, Celes could see through Terra's eyes to her wounded heart. Without her sword, Celes couldn't force Terra back to her human form, nor defend herself from Terra's claws. But she had no intention of defending herself for such a horrific breach of Terra's trust.

The claws never descended to rake Celes's flesh. Magical fire did not flense the skin from her guilty bones. Instead, Terra ran from her, dropped her shoulder, and rammed clean through the hull of _The Falcon_. The hot wind of the midsummer night sky blew through the room.

Celes picked up her sword and rushed to the gaping hole. Against the dark sky, Terra was a pink shooting star that refused to fall, but it didn't take long for her glowing twinkle to disappear beneath a cloud.

Already, feet were thundering down stairs and charging down hallways. Celes turned and cursed her foolishness. Setzer burst into the room without knocking. Edgar was right behind him, and Relm peeked in under Edgar's arm.

"What happened?" Edgar asked. "Where is Terra?"

"Celes, why is there a hole in my ship?" Setzer demanded.

"Why are you only wearing a cape?" Relm asked.

"Is Terra alright?"

"I think she was getting dressed. We should go."

"Terra's a big girl, I'm sure she can handle herself. _Why is there a hole in my ship_?"

Celes merely straightened her posture, and all three decided it was best to let her speak in her own time. Celes the General filled the entire room with fierce authority, undiminished by her nudity or her shame over hurting Terra. _Sketch this, Relm. With enough resolve, a woman can stand naked in front of the King of Figaro and still keep his attention on her words._

"Gather the others. I will meet you in the lounge." 

* * *

 

Composed, collected, and finished crying, Celes rested a hand on her sword hilt. The faces seated around the blackjack table were all on her.

"She was heading west when I lost sight of her."

"What state was she in?" Cyan asked. "Was she injured?"

"She was fine. Upset, but unhurt. She is probably exhausted from casting two dozen spells, so I doubt she flew far. But I've learned not to underestimate her when she is angry."

"Rule number seven," Setzer said.

"No magic on the ship," the group mumbled in unison with Setzer.

"To be fair, she blew the hole in the ship with her body. The magic was harmless." She patted her sword.

"It's a simple rule. Why can't anyone seem to follow such a simple rule?"

Celes sighed. "Whatever. Can we focus?" When no one else said anything, Celes gathered her nerve to utter the last detail. "Wherever she is, she may still have a slave crown on. So when she reverts to her human form there's no telling whether she'll even try to return to us."

Edgar raised one eyebrow, and his brother raised both. "I'm sorry," Edgar said, "a _slave crown_? Why was she wearing a slave crown?"

Her resolve squealed like metal on the verge of fatigue, but she held her her jaw steady and her gaze steadier. "Because I put it there."

Twelve pairs of shocked eyes blinked in unison. Mog muttered a translation to Umaro, and that brought the count up to all thirteen. Locke snorted on the brink of laughing. Unlike the others, his mouth was not hanging agape. When Celes locked eyes with him, he erupted with laughter. He knew.

For the first time that night, Celes's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Do you have something to add?" Setzer asked.

His eyes met Celes's again and his laughter trailed off. His point had been made. "No, nothing."

"Nevertheless," Celes said, commanding the table's attention again, "Terra is missing and until we know better, we must assume she is in danger."

Relm kicked Locke under the table and mouthed a silent, "What?" to him.

"Forget it," he mouthed back. She kicked him again, harder. This time, Shadow nudged Relm with his elbow and gave her a subtle shake of the head.

Celes sighed.

"I recommend search parties," Edgar said. Celes was silently thankful that he, at least, had kept sight of what was important. Not so thankful that she'd share a bottle of pre-Collapse Doman white with him, but thankful.

"Where do we start?" Sabin asked.

"No search parties," Celes said. "I think I know where she'll be. And if it's all the same, I'd rather go alone."

"It's not all the same to us," Setzer said. "We need her."

"Not like I do."

* * *

 

Celes swept aside a cobweb with her hand. It had been years since she'd been in this building, and from the silky web curtains, it appeared that only spiders had moved in after Ramuh died.

The others thought she was mad for coming here first. It had been a chore convincing them Terra wasn't returning to Mobliz because to them it seemed so obvious: she'd retreat to where her children were. But Celes knew better. People in pain don't run towards love.

Still, Zozo had to have only been Terra's second choice. Celes needed to search there first because, by the Triad, she didn't even want to think about her love doing what she _really_ wanted. If she challenged him alone . . .

It was here that Terra first learned the truth about what she was, and with it the magnitude of the crime that had been committed against her family and her people. Terra's people. Celes was never sure whether she had a right to think of the espers as her people, too. After all, she was made a half-esper, not born like Terra. But did it matter? Neither were raised among them, and both could innately use magic as a result. The distinction didn't matter when they were both treated as dangerous freaks at best, or used as living weapons at worst.

The carpet runner coughed up dust as Celes crossed the room. She felt the rug slip and her foot dipped below the plane of the floor. Reflexively, she scrambled back, away from the hole under the rug, but landed hard on her side. Her sword _thwacked_ the thin wood veneer on nearby pillar, echoing through the room.

A familiar, feral howl was the only warning Celes had. The room lit up as a ball of fire spiraled toward her. She scrambled for her sword but couldn't get it free from under her in time to absorb the spell. She rolled away behind the pillar and it collided with the door.

"Terra, it's me!"

An airburst of fire sent Celes diving around the corner of the pillar, away from flames but also out of hiding. She got to her feet and freed her blade before Terra could get off another shot. Raising _Save the Queen_ above her head, she snatched the next fireball out of the air with her bare hand and swallowed it through her skin. The runes on her sword blazed to life and hoarfrost dusted her hair.

After such an aggressive salvo, she had expected to see Terra squaring off with her, crouched and poised to pounce. Instead, her love was curled up in the corner, knees to her chest, and avoiding eye contact. Predator avoidance. Or guilt? Regret? She looked like a small child waiting to be punished for impotent rebellion. The slave crown sat crookedly on her brow.

Celes dropped her sword and rushed to pull the slave crown off. She received a sharp kick to the chest for her trouble, sending the crown clattering across the floor and knocking her onto her back in the dust. She tensed for the next blow, waiting for instinct to consume Terra at the sight of a supine foe.

No such blow came. Terra stayed in her fetal ball, but now her glowing eyes were on Celes. Her magenta fur crackled with magic and fear.

Celes sighed, letting her head fall against the dusty rug. "I had that one coming."

The long silence was heavy with danger. There were words that Celes guessed might be safe to say, and there were words Celes feared she needed to say. But she didn't know what words would comfort Terra. She wasn't even sure she _should_ try to reassure Terra; clearly Celes had failed to keep herself in line, so why should Terra believe anything she said?

Terra reached out and placed a hand on Celes's chest gently. Celes flinched in surprise, making Terra pull back and look away. Gathering her nerve, she touched Celes's chest again. Her claws rested against her sternum, sharp even through the soft fabric of her shirt. Celes reached up to run a hand through Terra's pink mane and smiled apologetically. Terra rested her head on Celes's shoulder and curled up tight.

Her fur dissolved into the magical ether, exposing Terra's bare skin once more, and the pink glow faded until there was only silent moonlight, shadows, and the warmth of Terra's body against her. Terra clutched Celes and buried her face in her chest. Celes stroked her love's hair.

"I'm sorry," Terra said.

Celes looked down at Terra. "What ever do you have to be sorry for?"

"I couldn't control it. I disobeyed you. I let you down."

"Oh sweetheart." Celes wrapped Terra in a tight hug. "Is that what you've been worried about? Did you think I was coming here to punish you?"

Terra nodded.

"For what?"

"I should have let you do it," Terra whispered. "I shouldn't have run."

Celes sat up, and lifted Terra with her. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Terra, I failed _you_. I should have never made a threat I wasn't willing to carry out while you had that crown on, and more importantly, I should never have threatened _that_. Ever."

Terra nodded, accepting the answer, but Celes was left uncertain whether she believed it. She lifted Terra's chin. In the dark, Terra's deeply set eyes fell into black shadows but Celes looked into them just the same.

"Did you think I would do it?"

"If I failed you, and you felt I deserved it."

"Is that what you were afraid of? That I would do it?"

"No."

She hoped Terra would volunteer more than a single word, but when she didn't, Celes pressed. "Then why did you run?"

"I wasn't sure I could even die right; I'm only half-esper. And then you wouldn't be able to make me a part of you."

The way Terra romanticized what had been done to Celes struck the general's rawest nerve. Did she think it was some form of ultimate intimacy? If only it were true. There was nothing pleasant or intimate in what had been done to Celes. The real thing was terrifying, painful, and left invisible scars at the seams in the mind. There would be no merging; Terra would be gone.

Celes, still reeling from the insult but determined to put it behind her, just shook her head. "Are you listening to yourself? I'd expect an answer like that if you had the crown on." Terra looked down but Celes lifted her gaze again. "No, look at me. What you did was the right thing. If someone tells you they want to turn you into magicite—if someone says they want to _kill you_ —you fight. You kill them or you get away from them. You don't stand there and let them do it. I would have expected nothing less from you than what you did."

Terra's gaze fell again, and Celes sighed. Celes thought she looked disappointed that she'd told her to fight back. "What?" Celes wasn't sure she wanted the answer, but Terra's state of mind left her no choice. "Did you _want_ me to?"

Terra shrugged.

"That's not an answer."

"Yes."

Lightheadedness swept over Celes. She clung to Terra to stave off the sensation she was falling upwards. Her limbs felt impossibly distant, and her hands were no longer her own. There was no preparing for an answer like that.

"Sometimes . . ." Terra started, and trailed off. "Sometimes I feel like it would be for the best. Sometimes I think, 'Now that Katrin and Duane are grown, my kids will be safe and they don't need a monster for a mother.' And I look at everyone around us and think, 'You all would be better off with me as magicite. That way my power could be controlled.'"

"Terra—"

"Please. Let me finish." Terra paused to gather her words. "I get so tired of pretending to be human. I don't understand how people think. I never know if the emotions I feel are anything like what others feel, I just know everyone seems to feel so much more than I can. I only feel half here. Like I'm experiencing the world through a fog. I don't get excited the way Relm does. I don't feel passionate about the future the way Edgar does."

Celes stroked Terra's arm. She wanted to tell her how wrong she was, that she's seen Terra's bright smile and how beautiful it was. She wanted to remind her of the time she took Celes to raft down the rapids of Mt. Koltz, and the way they had giggled and screamed the entire way. But she held her tongue and let Terra continue.

"But when I let my esper half take over I feel real. Like I exist. The fog is gone. I'm awake, and alert, and alive, and I want to experience _everything_. Nothing matters and everything is beautiful." Excitement and awe crept into Terra's voice as she spoke. "I get flashes of that feeling. When I was with my kids, I would find myself smiling unexpectedly, or crying uncontrollably. After intense battles I would tremble from the thrill of nearly dying. But it was rare."

Celes twirled a strand of Terra's green hair.

"When I wore the slave crown, these feelings didn't matter. I didn't know what it really meant to feel alive. But now that knowledge taunts me: I _could_ feel fully alive and part of this world, but because I can't control my esper form, I'm trapped in this life of blunted edges and muted colors." Terra wiped a tear. "Using the slave crown to become an unthinking, unfeeling weapon again was something I could do. Something I could take pride in doing _well_. And even if it meant being hollow again, at least this time I would be serving a good cause."

"Love, do you want to stay in your esper form permanently?"

"I can't. I've already done enough damage today because I can't control it."

"But would you like to?"

Terra nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

Celes squeezed Terra tightly. "I love you. And I will love you no matter what form you're in. We'll find a way. Together."

At last, her resolve cracked, and Terra wept in Celes's arms, mumbling sloppy, undignified thanks through the tears. There was no one Terra needed to impress here, least of all Celes. She would hold Terra as long as her love needed.

Before long, Terra wiped her tears and took Celes's head in both her hands. Her green hair tinted the splash of moonlight that fell upon her face. She pulled Celes into a fierce kiss. "What do you want of me, Commander?"

Celes still wanted to explain to Terra that her words had deeply insulted her. She wanted to make Terra understand that she, too, was a woman estranged from the world because of what she was. She wanted to hear Terra reassure her that they were the same, regardless of their origins, and that neither was alone. But now was not the time for those conversations.

"I want you." Celes brushed her green bangs aside and kissed Terra's forehead. Her fingers lingered on her cheek, lightly tracing a circle. "All of you. The real you."

Terra pulled Celes's hand away from her face. "I don't want to hurt you."

Celes dropped her shoulders and smirked at Terra. "I'd like to see you try."

 _There_. There was that predatory fire she loved. Others first saw the hair turning pink or the magenta fur bursting from bare flesh, but Celes knew it started in the eyes. That flash of purple _now you've done it_ marking the moment Terra decided she wasn't letting you walk away.

Fluid, sweeping, twisting. Terra sprang into motion while still transforming, planted her pink, fur-covered palms on the dusty rug and swung both feet up to kick Celes flat onto her back. Dazed, Celes didn't see Terra scamper away. She only saw a pink beast leap onto the wall for a boost and then pounce at her.

Celes sat up to catch Terra's claws in her hands, then brought her legs up to catch Terra's hips. She rolled backwards with Terra's momentum and flipped Terra over her head. Terra landed on her back with a room-shaking slam. Hands still locked together, Celes rolled back to straddle Terra's chest with her knees on her shoulders.

She flailed her legs, and it took all of Celes's strength and weight to keep her arms pinned. Terra was far stronger in this form, so Celes was going to take advantage of every bit of leverage she had. An unearned surrender wasn't foreplay.

"Got you." Celes's white cape floated down and formed a tent over their heads, the soft glow of Terra's eyes providing the only light. The scent of Terra's breath had changed. It tingled in her nose and in the back of her throat, awakening the magical hunger again.

Out of habit, Celes calculated how to reach her sword to drain Terra's power and balance things out, but she stopped herself. Win or lose, _this_ is what she had asked for. Terra, in all her glory, and nothing less.

That distraction was all it took for Terra to turn the tables. Terra's nimble legs came up under Celes's arms to grab her head between her pink feet. One clawed toe found its way clumsily into Celes's mouth, and another came dangerously close to her eye. Terra flung Celes backwards onto her shoulders, then stood to pin her with her knees near her head. Terra teased Celes by tracing a claw along the backsides of a helpless Celes's legs.

"Got you," Terra purred.

Celes tensed and squirmed. She wanted Terra to do it harder, tear through her trousers, leave welted scratch marks, but instead Terra's claws danced on the brink of tickling Celes. She wanted to break her. Celes wanted her to.

She couldn't flail without injuring herself. But she could cast. It was clumsy, and she couldn't target Terra without hitting herself. So she struck herself. The jolt of lightning coursed through her and into Terra, dropping both into convulsing seizures, but more importantly, breaking Terra's hold on Celes.

They retreated to trade spell after spell, flowing from fire to ice in a ballet of bone-breaking blasts. Without words, they reached an agreement to hold back—not for sake of their bodies, which they _fully_ intended to harm—but for the room around them whose floor could not be trusted. All the while, Terra guarded _Save the Queen_ , forcing the runic hunger within Celes build, unsated.

She needed to taste Terra's magic.

A column of flame caught Celes in the back and knocked her to the ground. Without her sword she couldn't absorb the magic that gave form to the fire, but she still felt its tingle in the air, taunting her. Its scent stung her nose and mixed with the odor of clothing and skin melting together. More than the screaming pain in her leg, it was the hunger of the esper within her that howled. Terra answered the cry with a wild laugh.

Terra wanted intimacy? She would devour every last spark of Terra's magic. That esper could become one with Celes on _her_ terms. She just needed her bloody sword.

Terra disappeared behind a pillar, dodging a blast of ice shards from Celes. Both of them were staggering and stumbling, so she assumed Terra was catching her breath. Every ounce of Celes's training said now was the moment to go for the sword. Her legs were too weak, but desperation forced her from the safety of cover. She bled from cuts and burns, so she focused only on the task at hand.

 _Claws_. She didn't even see Terra beside her. The flash of pink drove up, through Celes's shredded coat and under her ribs, lifting her off the ground. The pain overpowered even the hunger within her. Breathing was unbearable, but a sensation of fluid forced an involuntary cough. Blood bubbled out of her mouth. In Terra's eyes, she saw the predatory, primal joy of triumph.

Celes would give anything to see that look on Terra's face forever.

But when their eyes met, Terra faltered. She could feel her claws became human fingers inside her. Without her fae strength, Terra dropped Celes. She could hear Terra's voice calling her. It sounded human, but the noises didn't seem like words anymore.

_No, don't look sad. This was fun._

She hoped she was smiling.

* * *

 

Celes woke with a gasp. Her head felt fuzzy and unrested, but all her parts were in the right place. It wasn't the first time she'd been brought back from death, and it never ceased to underwhelm her. Stories always made it sound so dramatic, but from early on, she found the sensation of waking from a dreamless sleep to be so . . . terribly prosaic. It just meant annoying time gaps and a sore neck.

Of course, waking to find Terra's fingers entwined with hers softened the blow.

"How long?"

"A few minutes."

Celes nodded. In the fading light of memory, she had seen Terra embrace her feral lust at last, only for it to evaporate suddenly. "You were having such fun. Why did you stop?"

Terra started in surprise. "Sweetheart, you _died_."

"Dying isn't my safe word."


	3. Naming the Falling Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terra and Celes share a quiet evening under the stars. Celes reveals the wish that haunts her heart, and Terra tells Celes the history behind her name.

Celes rested her head in Terra's lap and watched the sky for wishes she wouldn't make. She wasn't the wishing type. But Terra was. Whenever a shooting star blazed across the sky, Terra's face would light up and she would bounce like a child on—well, Empire Day _used_ to be a fun holiday.

It was hard for Celes to understand what Terra meant when she said others felt the world more strongly than she did when she could see the childlike joy on Terra's face. She even found herself envying Terra for that. But when the exuberance faded as quickly as the meteor, she finally caught a glimpse of it. Terra couldn't hold on to joy any better than she could hold on to the shooting star's glow.

If Terra couldn't hold on to it herself, Celes would lend her hands and remind her. She reached up to touch Terra's cheek. "I like you."

Terra beamed a smile. She poked Celes's nose. "I like _you_."

While _The Falcon_ was land-docked for repairs, which Celes offered to pay for, the entire crew was crammed into the Maranda inn. Celes wasn't eager to show her face in that town ever again, and nor were Mog or Umaro. So the four of them volunteered to camp out near the ship and stand watch. It also afforded far more privacy than they'd find elsewhere. But not enough privacy for them to have brought the crown along.

"What are you wishing for?"

Terra looked down at Celes with a smirk. "I can't say—"

"—or else it won't come true." "—or else it won't come true."

Terra poked Celes's nose again, harder this time. Celes rolled over onto her side and looked to the horizon. "Well, mine wouldn't come true anyway."

Terra stroked Celes's hair. "Do you wish Locke had gotten over Rachel?" Terra teased.

"Well, yes. But for his sake, not for mine."

"Did you two ever—"

Celes swatted Terra on the thigh.

"Mmmm." Terra sounded skeptical. "Do you wish that General Leo hadn't died so he could give you a dozen beautiful blonde soldier babies?"

"Augh, no." Celes sighed. "The babies part, not the dying part. I do wish that hadn't happened but that wasn't what I was thinking about." Actually, it had been an uncomfortably long time since she'd given any thought to her old mentor. She resolved to visit his grave soon. "Guh. Now I'm picturing a platoon of toddlers in Imperial uniforms marching in formation out of my vagina. Thanks for that."

"I try." Terra twirled Celes's hair. "I've got it. You want to star in an opera show for real!"

Celes mock gasped. "You think that wouldn't come true? You wound me." Celes snickered and poked Terra in the knee. "But no."

"I'm stumped."

"No you're not."

"Are you going to command me to keep guessing?" Terra traced a finger around Celes's ear. Celes nuzzled Terra's thighs contentedly, enjoying the cozy warmth before replying.

"I wish I knew its name."

Terra gave a curious tilt of the head.

"My esper half. I wish I knew what it was called. Who it was when it was alive." Celes wrapped her arms around Terra's leg. "I keep saying 'it'. I don't even know if it was a he or a she."

"Neither, I guess," Terra said. "Espers don't have sexes the way you think. When new ones are born out of a magical merging of essences, there isn't much use for rutting around like dogs."

Celes teased the inside of Terra's thigh with her nose. " _You_ never seem to mind rutting around with me."

Terra snickered lasciviously and repositioned herself to kiss Celes. "You're right about that. You could just use 'they'."

She was trying to be reassuring, but she had picked the wrong wound to comfort. Celes sighed. "Have you ever had a name for yours?" She couldn't believe she had never asked that before, but if she had, she couldn't recall Terra's answer.

There was a hitch in Terra's voice before she spoke. "Terra."

"Mmm. That makes sense. You're still _you_ either way, so—" The smile disappeared from Terra's face, and sudden guilt stung Celes. "I'm sorry. If this is—"

"My name was Tina." Her tone told Celes she needed to sit up and be face to face for this. "Tina Branford."

"Tina? But, then Terra . . ."

Terra nodded, but didn't lift her eyes. "Terra is what I become—Terra is who I _am_. I can't be Tina anymore, even in my human form. That girl died the moment Emperor Gestahl kidnapped me." Terra looked at the grass, unwilling to risk seeing anything she could wish upon. She was retreating from hope. "So when the slave crown was taken off in Narshe, I cast off that name for good." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Celes ran her fingers through her love's green hair and kissed Terra's forehead. "You'll always be Terra to me."

She recognized the look Terra gave her. Terra had spotted her exposed flank and shifted her emotional reserves to cover the gap in her defenses. That line of conversation was over. "What about you? Why now?"

"I've wondered about it ever since I learned the truth." Celes paused to watch Terra's reaction. "About how I became . . . like you." Her eyes stayed fixed on Terra's, but her attention darted across every feature of her love's face, searching for any sign of disapproval at her choice of words. Yet Terra's lack of reaction only left Celes tumbling down the rabbit hole of worrying that it meant she disagreed and didn't want to let it show. "And since we've gotten closer, it's been on my mind more."

Terra nodded cautiously. Was it really caution? Or was Celes just projecting her uncertainty in all directions like a fawning child? Terra said she wanted stronger emotions, but just then, Celes wouldn't have minded being rid of them.

"If 'Celes' doesn't suffice for encompassing that part of you, why don't you choose a name yourself?" Terra asked. "As you so aptly put it, you're still you either way."

Celes shook her head. "It feels wrong. It—they—had a name, or names. It doesn't feel right renaming them. Even if they're just another part of me now."

Terra clasped Celes's hands in hers. "Would the facility have the answers you need?"

"Who knows? But the facility is part of that Goddess-forsaken Tower now, along with the rest of Vector." The first time Setzer piloted the ship near the tower, she recognized the grotesque wreckage of the research facility sticking out the side. It was intact in only the meanest sense. The tower itself was alive with malice, like some stitched-together chimera that hated its own existence, and the facility was just another twisted limb. "There's no telling if decades-old records still exist, and of course, finding out would mean actually going there."

Terra's eyes darted skyward, over Celes's shoulder. Celes turned just in time to see the last light of a shooting star.

"So?" Celes asked. "What was it this time?"

"Something that won't come true." She winked at Celes.

The meteor burnt out somewhere beyond the moonlit ocean, just above the horizon. Those waters had carried her here once, away from the tiny island where she weathered the Collapse. Away from her uncle who wanted nothing to do with the world that remained.

"I've got it," Celes said. "Cid might know."

Terra kissed Celes's temple. "See? _I_ didn't say what it was and it came true when _I_ wished for it."

Celes poked Terra in the ribs, and with a giggling kiss pressed her down into the grass. "You should have wished for something else."

Terra ran her fingers up Celes's sides, sliding them under her gold bolero jacket and along the seams of her silk shirt. Celes shivered and squirmed. "Oh? And what's that?"

"You should have wished for me to be able to transform into a fiery fairy beast like you." She dragged her fingernails along Terra's shoulders. "Except, you know. Icy." To drive the point home, she left a trail of frost on Terra where she touched. "That way we could fly there ourselves."

"What about the ship?"

"Mog and Umaro can handle things." Celes inhaled the scent of Terra's hair. It left that sparking feeling in her nose, and she opened her eyes to a sea of pink. "Wouldn't it be romantic? Both of us flying through the sky on wings of fire and ice?"

Terra's hands transformed into bright pink claws that poked Celes through her shirt. "Get your own trick."

Accepting Terra's challenge, Celes rested a hand on  _Save the Queen_. "I have one." She snaked her other hand into Terra's pink mane, and kissed Terra's esper form away. Her lips crusted over with ice. "But don't worry. You'll always be my faerie of wild fire."

Terra peeled Celes's fingers off her sword. Celes let her, basking in the dawning glow of Terra's purple eyes. Transforming again, she growled libidinously through a toothy smile and pulled Celes's coat back. She sank her jaws into Celes's neck, and Celes responded with a gasp of greedy pleasure. Too ecstatic to form coherent thoughts, when the next shooting star arced across the sky, Celes wished only for more.


	4. Remade In Her Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celes returns to Cid in search of her esper's name.

Celes had never been one for watching horizons until she met Terra. Land had been the only worthwhile thing to watch for as a soldier on a ship, but she'd learned from General Leo that idle anxiousness was a contagion. It was as virulent as any pox, and milling about on deck would only serve to spread it among her soldiers. Just as well. Land didn't appear more swiftly just because Celes Chere wished it so, and once spotted, it tended to still be there when she got on deck.

Wrapped in her blanket, Celes leaned against the rail, looking east. Terra hunted the sunrise. A pink comet that disappeared into the clouds just before dawn, she would return only once her prey had been found, dragging the sunlight behind her. That pink star that appeared after all the others had faded—that was what Celes watched for.

This would be her first time returning to the island in months. It was the first thing she insisted they do once they recovered _The Falcon_ , but stubborn old Cid refused to leave. It felt like so much longer. She could only imagine what the tedium of the island had been like without human company.

Even when she was there, the routine of daily existence had made the days indistinguishable. All her milestones were internal: the flavor of the first fish she caught, seeing Cid's face fall the day she told him he was too sick and should stay in bed, the color of the sky at the moment she realized she was thinking of that island as home. She could put them in order, but had no concept of whether they were months or days apart.

Arms wrapped around Celes from behind. The embrace was tender, but it startled Celes enough to squeak. Terra giggled and squeezed tighter, and Celes relaxed against her love.

"You scared me." Celes turned around, still wrapped in both blanket and Terra's arms. Terra grinned innocently so she kissed Terra's nose. "You're back early. How come?"

"Setzer figured we'd get there today so I decided to take a look ahead." Sweat-matted green hair clung to Terra's forehead, but her ponytail whipped in the breeze. She looked exhausted, but she was still glowing from the rush. "Besides, I wanted to see what you see for once."

Celes smiled and turned back to the horizon. "Not all that interesting without you to watch for." Through the folds of the blanket, Celes's hand found Terra's, and they laced their fingers together. Terra nuzzled Celes's cheek, then nibbled her ear. Celes squirmed but Terra held fast. Trapped in the blanket, it was her turn to be at Terra's mercy.

Celes could feel her fingers getting warmer, bit by bit. Terra's face was so close she could only see her out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't have to look to know there was a playful smirk on Terra's face. Celes responded with magic of her own, meeting fire with ice. Steam hissed between their hands but neither was uncomfortable enough to break contact yet. "Thumb wrestling with magic," Relm called it the first time she saw the two of them playing.

The first true rays of sunlight broke the horizon, and Celes smiled at the sight of it. The lapse in concentration cost her a blast of heat on her hand and torso as Terra's fire spell took the lead, evaporating Celes's ice and searing her before Terra stopped it. Terra broke contact and cheered for her own victory.

Celes turned to see Terra doing a victory dance with a smug grin. Celes playfully kicked Terra in the shin. Terra dropped into a wide stance, hands out and ready to either tickle or tackle Celes, whichever occurred to her first.

"Don't you two want to see this?" Setzer called from the wheel. Both of them looked up from their antics to where Setzer was pointing.

Celes couldn't make anything out yet, but Terra didn't wait. She trotted all the way to the fore and pressed herself against the rail, leaving Celes walking after. This time it was Celes's turn to envelop Terra from behind, blanket and all.

"That man has eyes better than anyone I've ever met. I still don't see anything," Celes confessed.

"There." Terra pointed, but in the morning light it just looked like reflections on waves.

Celes kissed Terra's neck. "I'm surprised you changed back."

"I didn't want to scare Cid," Terra admitted. She chuckled darkly. "He's never dealt with one of us outside of a cage so I wouldn't want him to start getting ideas."

"Hey," Celes said and poked her. "That's still my uncle you're talking about."

"Sorry," Terra said. The tender sincerity in her tone surprised Celes. She didn't think Terra's joke had struck a nerve, but evidently her voice had betrayed her.

Celes nuzzled Terra's cheek. Not wanting Terra to fear the lighthearted mood was spoiled, Celes pushed back, "If you're so concerned about him feeling safe, maybe I ought to make you wear the crown the entire time."

"Can you?" Terra excitedly pleaded. "I'll be a good esper, Commander."

"After." Celes answered. Terra whined like a puppy, so Celes pressed the advantage of her position and tickled her Terra. Giggling, Terra clasped Celes's hand to make her stop, so Celes did. Celes kissed Terra's green hair. "I think you should let him meet the you that you want him to remember."

Terra responded by relaxing into Celes's arms as they made the final approach. Setzer circled to find a good place to land, but when they passed by the cliff side of the island, Celes buried her face in Terra's hair, not wanting to see it. The last time she had seen that cliff . . .

The despair from that day stormed the gates of her consciousness. She could still see in her mind what shapes the clouds made, the colors that the sunset had painted the waves. She could feel the weight of her heart the day her resolve broke, and she gave in to believing Kefka had taken every reason she had for living. Oh, what she would have given that day on the cliff to see _The Falcon_ appear on the horizon.

"What's wrong?" Terra asked.

Celes opened her mouth to say, "It's nothing," but no words came out. She just shook her head. Terra didn't push further. She just offered an encouraging squeeze of Celes's hand and let Celes take shelter against her.

She had never told the others the truth. Not Cid. Not even Terra. She always left one day out of the story she had told, the day Cid's illness had gotten so bad she couldn't wake him. The day she had climbed the cliff, and—

When she had woken up on the beach, the sun had already set. It was the lowest Celes had ever felt, having first failed the world, then Cid, and finally even herself. When she wandered back to the cottage and found Cid awake, she had uttered the lie for the first of what would be many times: "A riptide caught me while I was fishing and raked me against the rocks."

It was a simple lie, with an element of admitting to having made a foolish mistake that made it impolite to press her for details. Cid had only nodded and tended to her injuries as though he as were fit as she was. Celes had never known whether he believed her, or knew the truth and didn't want to humiliate her.

It was easier to leave that day out of the stories.

"Time to go below, lovebirds," Setzer said. "Might be a bumpy landing today." They nodded, Terra gave Celes's hand another squeeze before she led her below. The landing bell was ringing by the time they reached the lower deck.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Terra asked.

"For not asking me to explain."

* * *

 

Celes and Terra walked hand-in-hand across the field. Her plan was to invite Cid to come away with them, to return to the world again as she had. Celes's story hadn't ended on this island, and she didn't want Cid's to either.

In her free hand, Celes held the neck of a bottle of pre-Collapse Kohlingeni red, while Terra carried a basket of cheese and jerky. Even if he wouldn't come with them, she wanted to treat him to something he surely hadn't had in ages.

Cid leaned on a hand-made cane in the field in front of the cottage as the pair approached. His beard was trimmed by knife without the aid of a mirror, and the hair he had left was no different. He had lost most of the weight Celes remembered. Yet, despite the disheveled appearance and need for a cane, he looked more youthful than Celes had ever remembered him.

Solitude had worn on his spirit. She could see it in his eyes even if not his body. He watched their approach without returning their greeting nor acknowledging their presence until they were just several yards away. He just stared.

"Cid?" Celes asked. "It's me. It's Celes."

Terra leaned in to whisper but asked at full volume, "Did we break him?"

Terra's voice broke Cid's cautious stare, and his eyes darted back and forth between the pair. "Celes? Is it really you?"

Celes was relieved the solitude hadn't crushed him entirely, and she was glad she had talked the rest of the group into remaining behind for now. She couldn't imagine how he would have reacted if they had all marched up to his house together.

"Yes, Cid. It's me." She felt the urge to embrace him but thought it would be best to let him make any first moves.

He drew a breath that started all the way at his knees, and planted a fist on his hip. Newfound lucidity filled him like sails catching the wind, and his scowl was replaced with a warm smile. "Celes! What are you doing here?" His eyes narrowed. "You're not giving up on the world are you?"

Celes grinned. "No, no. We're still holding on somehow." Terra smiled and squeezed Celes's hand.

Cid noticed the held hands, concerned. "Where's that thief friend of yours?"

Celes opened her mouth, but was at a loss for words. She chuckled awkwardly. "Ah—"

"I think he prefers treasure hunter," Terra said, covering for Celes.

"He's well." She shrugged. "He's on the ship, along with the others you knew. And a few more."

Cid looked at the pair of them again, then shrugged, impressed. "Can't say I expected it of you, but I can't say I didn't either. A girl grows up around soldiers and never finds her way into one's bunk . . ." He winked and turned away, striding toward the cottage. "Come on in, then." Celes blushed, and Terra elbowed her.

The interior of the cottage was familiar and strange all at once. The walls were the same, the furniture was in the same place, as though Cid hadn't allowed anything to change since Celes left. But all the flat surfaces were covered with dolls made out of bones, sticks, feathers, mud, and hide. Even though the materials varied from doll to doll, they all depicted the same angelic figure. All of them had faces, but none had eyes. An esper?

Celes offered Cid the wine and basket. She never thought she'd seen a man as determined not to weep. He insisted on making a meal of it with them, even after Celes protested it was for him. "Nonsense. Wine is for sharing."

There were no plates nor cups, and a shortage of chairs, so they just passed the bottle and basket while sitting on the floor. She decided to save her questions for after, and filled the time exchanging stories about recent events. Cid was shocked to hear Terra was a mother, but no less proud for it. He sighed and nodded when they told him about the doom cultists, but he was glad to hear that Edgar had ordered Figaro to pay for repairs to the Opera House.

"Even a barren field needs a wildflower or two," Cid said. That conversation ending nugget of folksy faux-wisdom gave Celes the opening she needed.

"Come back with us."

"No."

He hadn't even finished chewing before replying; he'd been ready for her to suggest it all day, it seemed. So Celes leaned back against the bed. "Why not?"

"Like I said last time. I'm not leaving this island until that clown stops laughing. He's not gonna call down his Light of Judgment on one worthless old man."

"You're not worthless," Celes said by reflex. She wasn't going to abide Cid being a grump for the sake of it.

"And I don't think he laughs much anymore," Terra added. She cleaned her teeth with a partially transformed claw hand. "I think he's bored."

"All the more reason not to tempt him by going anywhere civilized. I know he's watching me. I can feel it, all the way from here."

Celes wanted to believe Cid was losing his wits, but she had felt it too. Kefka was always watching from atop his tower. He knew they were plotting his downfall; he had to have known. And it frightened her to think that they hadn't been blasted out of the sky merely because their efforts served to entertain him. At least he wasn't destroying cities while his attention was fixed on them.

"So," Cid said, passing the bottle to Celes. "Are you going to tell me why you're really here?"

"I want you to come back with us. I don't want you dying here alone."

"Ah, that's not why you're here." Cid waved her off. "It's all over your face, girl. You know me too well to think I'd have changed my mind—What are you doing!?" Cid shrieked at Terra.

Celes looked up, expecting to see Terra in her true form or something equally startling. Instead, she saw Terra holding one of Cid's dolls looking as perplexed as she was.

"I was just—"

"Put that back! Put it back!" Cid scrambled to his feet. Terra had replaced it on the shelf before Cid reached her, but he still insisted on rearranging its limbs and position so that it was exactly as it had been.

"Sorry," Terra offered.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you—ah, no they wouldn't have. They put that . . . thing on you." He gestured to his forehead rather than say it out loud.

Terra bristled. "It wasn't _always_ there, you know."

Cid wasn't listening. He looked utterly engrossed in ensuring his collection hadn't been disturbed. Satisfied, he sat back down where he had been. Like a petulant child, Terra pushed one of his dolls out of place when he wasn't looking. Celes chided her with a silent glare, but Terra shrugged.

Terra sat down next to Celes so that she could rest her head in Celes's lap. "Well, I did have something," Celes admitted. She took Terra's hand by instinct. "I want to know how it was done."

Cid gave a thoughtful, distant nod. "You've never asked before." He didn't meet Celes's gaze. His eyes were fixed on the bottle but Celes didn't think that was what he was looking at. "I don't remember much. And I wish I didn't remember the parts that I do."

"Please," Celes asked.

He waved both hands. "No, no, I know. You have a right to know." He sighed. "So, where do you want me to start?"

She already knew the why of it all, and the resulting Magitek weapons and dead espers were proof of the consequences. All that was missing was the profoundly personal. "What was done to me?"

Cid never looked her in the eye. "Too much. We had you all cut open." He touched a spot on Celes's head, then another above her heart, and another just under her navel. "Surgery. Transplants. Transfusions. I can't even remember it all. Please don't ask me the details. We did it to the clown first, then on you. Goddess, you were so young—we didn't want to make any mistakes. But when it drove him mad. . ."

"I don't think Kefka was ever mad," Celes said. "Not the way you think. All you did was give a narcissistic nihilist the power to prove himself right."

Cid sighed. "There were still crimes enough to lay at my feet." Cid remained silent for a long while, but in time continued. "We were resolute: we had to learn from the mistakes we made on Kefka. We didn't want you to turn out like he did, and there was only so much . . ." Cid shook his head, looking at the floor. "Material to work with."

"Espers," Terra said, firmly but without looking at him. "I want to hear you say it. You used the bodies of espers."

Cid nodded. "Espers."

Anyone but Celes would have thought Terra was satisfied with that admission, but she knew Terra had merely been momentarily appeased. "Love, if you don't want to hear this—"

"Oh, I want to hear every fucking word."

Cid flinched as he realized the conversation had turned hostile. But in the end he nodded, apparently deciding Terra was entitled to hear it all as well.

"There was one detail," Celes said, hoping it would be a safer topic to let Terra's anger cool. "What was the esper's name?"

Cid looked away. "I don't recall."

"Cid."

"It's the truth!" He closed his eyes. "In those days, they were just numbered by the order in which they were caught. She was number six."

"Then tell me what you do know," Celes said. She tried to sound comforting, but there was nothing she could do to hide her own disgust. And pity.

"They said when she was taken she was armed, but all that was left was the armor, and the twisted metal where some kind of wing—The armor was part of her. She had soft, dark skin, and silver eyes. No pupils. Her gaze—Goddess, that gaze. Kefka may style his tantrums the 'Light of Judgment' but in her eyes . . . That was _true_ judgment."

Celes felt a pang of fear in her gut. Cid described someone Celes had never seen, but she knew the face. It was a face she expected to see in the mirror—not every day, but on days when the lingering smoke of a dream still clouded her awareness, or when she spotted her reflection in the corner of her eye and turned to look. But it was never the face she saw.

Cid shook his head. "I hated her for it. I was fascinated by her, but those eyes . . . I wanted to scream at her. I wasn't the one who captured her, maimed her. But I was the one those eyes followed through the room." Cid ground his teeth. "So when we needed one to use to make you . . ."

Cid wept. Celes lifted a hand to comfort him but halted mid-gesture and lowered it again.

He chuckled in disgust. "Kefka was thrilled, and livid. He had been testing his new powers on the others, but when no spell of his could affect her, he would take it out on whomever happened to be nearby, even my assistants. The day I told him why her tank was empty was the day I saw the depth of that man's madness. I watched as he fought against his desire to celebrate her death, simply because it had not been at his hand. His precious, petty vengeance had been stolen from him. That was the day I knew that man would kill me someday. Instead he's letting me sit here with the knowledge that he could."

Terra's feet had stopped shuffling, and she had stopped tracing lines on the floor. Terra was too still. She was forcing herself to look calm, but Celes knew it was the poise of a predator preparing to strike. Cid didn't notice.

"I'm so sorry, Celes. What was done to you—to a _child_. I can't ever be forgiven for that."

"Cid, I'm not the one you—"

Terra shouted something as she sprung to her feet, but it was unintelligible. In that same motion, she conjured a gout of flame directed at Cid. Without her sword, Celes had no way of stopping the spell, so she lurched forward to knock Cid out of the way.

The fire scorched her elbow, and she cried out. In any other circumstance, Terra would immediately apologize, but instead she just let out another howl of rage. She wasn't going to cast with Celes in the way, but Terra wasn't about to mend Celes's arm, either.

The two locked eyes.

"Let her do it!" Cid said, and tried to shove Celes away. He was stronger than she remembered, but he was still no match for her on that front. "Celes, I deserve it. If it can bring some measure of peace then it's a better death than at the hands of that clown."

"He must be punished for what he's done."

"No," Celes declared. "I won't allow it. You saved my life." She looked at Terra. "He saved my life. Twice." Terra retreated half a step. "That's right. When I thought he was dead, and that I was alone, I gave up hope. I jumped. I never told you before, and I'm not proud of it, but do you know who put the pieces back together again without complaint? Cid. If that means anything to you, then let that be atonement enough!"

 _Her eyes_. Celes shouldered into Cid, knocking him aside before Terra could finish transforming. Her fist splintered the wall over Celes's shoulder. Terra pulled back to strike again. Her breath was hot and heavy as she loomed over Celes. Celes waited for her to knock her aside to reach Cid.

Instead, Terra fled. Celes gave chase, and caught Terra's fur as she crouched to take flight. Terra swung around to knock Celes off of her, striking Celes above the ear and knocking her to the ground. Terra bounded a few steps away, again preparing to fly.

"You ran before, and I found you!" Terra paused and looked back at Celes. "Where will you go? Are you going to wait for me to give up and leave so you can come back to kill him?" Celes pushed herself to her feet, refusing to grimace at the pain in her burned arm. "I lived on this island for a year before; I can do it again!"

Terra howled. At Celes, at herself, at the sky, she wasn't sure which.

"This entire world has paid the price because espers and humans keep reopening old wounds! Judgment fell on _all_ our heads, and if the cycle will ever end, let it end _here_."

"He's a monster!" Terra shouted, guttural and coarse.

Celes stood tall. "Then what am I? If he is a monster, then I am the creation of a monster. Am I twice the abomination to you?"

"That's not fair. I've never seen you that way," Terra protested. Her posture shifted as rage gave way to uncertainty and fear.

"Then what _do_ you see when you look at me?" Celes demanded. She closed the distance and looked Terra directly in the eyes. "What am I to you?"

Terra tried to answer with a kiss. Celes wished she could let her, but she pulled away. "No, answer me. What am I? Are we alike or not?"

Terra looked away.

That was how it was then? Celes collapsed to her knees, and then to sitting as the will to fight left her. She was an abomination, even in her lover's eyes.

Terra dropped to all fours. Like a cat trying to get Celes's attention, she pressed herself into a prone contortion and forced herself into Celes's view. Celes wiped her tears. "It's ok," Celes lied. "I was expecting this." That was true.

Pink faded to green, and human hands clasped Celes's. "Expecting what? Sweetheart, what do you want me to say?"

Celes sighed. "I want to know that you see someone like you when you look at me."

"Why?" Terra asked, seemingly confused. Celes took a breath to reply but Terra continued. "I'm sorry, I mean. . . I'm the freak here if anyone is. Why are you so eager to be like me?"

"I want to know that there is someone in this world like me who isn't _him_." Kefka.

Terra pulled Celes into a hug, and she could feel Terra burrowing into her hair. She stroked Celes's back. "Then yes."

"You don't mean that." Celes broke the hug.

Terra took Celes's head in her hands and turned her towards her. "I do." Letting go, her gaze shifted to the grassy field around them. "I just never wanted you to compare yourself to me because . . . I was afraid you resented that part of you."

"Resent it?" Celes laughed, tears of relief flowing freely. "How could I resent what is part of you, too?" She pulled Terra toward her for a kiss.

Foreheads pressed together, Terra stole another kiss, and then a third. They laced their fingers together as Celes tried not to lean on her burned arm.

"But love," Celes said, wiping her cheeks on her shoulder but not letting go, "For all his crimes, Cid is why you and I are kin. The good and the bad, I owe it to him." Terra flinched to break away in some grand, blustering gesture but Celes caught her wrist. "I know it's a lot, but I need you to make peace with that. I won't let anyone take my only family from me. Not even you."

Terra's hands clenched down on Celes's. She nodded, but said nothing. It was enough for now.

"I love you," Celes said, letting go of Terra to cup her chin.

Terra covered her hand with her own. "I love you."

* * *

 

Terra mended Celes's arm. The spell made the pain flare up, and Celes clutched Terra's shoulder. She groaned as the familiar sparking tingle of Terra's magic raced along every nerve, overwhelming her. As quickly as it began, it was over, and a dull ache was all that remained. The rush that followed left Celes short of breath and laughing, but it had also roused the hunger of the void within.

"Are you alright?" Terra asked, though she had seen Celes through far worse.

"I'm fine. Better than fine." Celes chuckled, waiting for the inevitable crash. "Just wish I had my sword."

The sun was still high. The others on the ship wouldn't expect them back before dusk, and Cid could handle being by himself for the moment. Neither made any motion to stand. Terra brushed a hair out of Celes's face. "How does it feel?"

Celes flexed the arm. "It'll be fine."

"No, I mean . . . What does this feel like to you?" She touched Celes's torso, just below the sternum.

Celes explained the hunger as best she could, but all she could form were halting half-sentences. Sometimes only wordless sounds were all that fit the emptiness and need she described. For once she even explained the frustration that always followed as the hunger could not be sated. "Sometimes I feel like I could swallow the Warring Triad whole and never feel a thing."

Terra traced a pink claw along Celes's arm. The scratch was just on the satisfying side of painful. "Go on."

"I'm not sure what else to say. When I'm focused on battle it doesn't bother me so much."

"Oh?"

Celes shrugged. "Sometimes it feels good. It feels _right_. When _Save the Queen_ consumes the eldrich hellfires being conjured upon us, I feel . . . I feel this swelling inside. Gratitude, righteousness, excitement—a thousand emotions at once. The hunger never goes away, but for that instant there is no other way I would wish to be." Celes chuckled nervously. "I never know where the esper ends and my own wishful thinking begins."

"They're one and the same, no matter the source," Terra said and kissed Celes's forehead. The gesture was more reassuring that Celes let on. "Close your eyes. Take me through it."

Celes did her best to recreate the moment in her mind, but it was so fleeting. It was a wave to ride, not mountain to build on. She said as much and more, but it didn't seem to be enough for Terra. So Celes explained the face in the mirror.

"Yes!" Terra bounced and leaned in. "That. Focus on that."

Terra's exclamation broke Celes's focus, but it was easier to regain it now that she had a specific topic. Mostly she was repeating herself, since she had never in fact seen the face that seemed at once familiar and strange. "I don't know her name, though."

"That's alright," Terra said. "Picture her in your mind." Celes did so. "Imagine you are walking with her through Vector—pretend no one in the streets care—" Celes chuckled and did so. Excitement filled Terra's voice. "So the two of you are walking down the street, and she's ahead of you, and something in a store catches your eye. You want to go in the store but she's about to keep walking." The excitement in Terra's voice grew urgent. "You call out to get her attention. You say—"

"Br—" Celes clipped the word and her cheeks flushed. She felt it was too foolish to say.

"Yes? Go on."

"No, I don't think it's right." Celes waved a hand dismissively. It was right. She knew it was the esper's name the instant she felt the urge to say it. But true or not, sharing it would make it real. If she kept that knowledge private, she could let the doubts quietly consume it like scavengers in the weeks to come, letting her preserve things as they were.

"Well?" Terra asked, ran a teasing, playful claw along Celes's thigh. Celes shifted position but held her tongue. Knowing it would change her. Acknowledging it would make it impossible to take back. "What was it?"

"Brynhildr."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Intending to write at least one more of their slave crown adventures. It was important to me to lay the groundwork for these two in this kind of power relationship rather than dive right in.


End file.
